In which Roz and Layla up the adventure quotient of their Caribbean vacation

By Roz

We arrived in St.-Martin after a very choppy ferry ride and found ourselves in a cute port with lots of French cafes etc. I might have cast a longing gaze towards them (not least because of a somewhat menacing looking sky) but Layla was having none of such tame plan and hailed us a cab. We were off in pursuit of a Tripadvisor promise of horse-riding! We arrived at the 'nature park', which entailed going through a dodgy looking industrial park, and I certainly had some doubts. But the woman who greeted us did so very cheerily (if with a certain amount of amusement that we had brought suitcases in odd contrast to their usual cruise clientele) and soon we were booked to go out on a ride at noon. This left us with an hour to spend sipping drinks overlooking the sea and reading our books. But our books got somewhat scant attention as we both enjoyed seeing other groups going out into the sea on their horses... Soon enough it was time for our ride, and our very sweet guide laughed at us for our semi-genuine nerves. Our nerves turned out to be not unfounded, given that Layla had a horse with an enthusiasm for rolling in the sand and mine an enthusiasm for nipping the other's bottom. Notwithstanding these terrors, we had a very cheery ride along trails in the countryside passing cacti and suchlike. The ride concluded with an expedition into the sea, and although neither horse absolutely swum, it was very cool indeed to be up to our chests in the water on horseback. 

From there (having changed) we taxied to the airport and got on board our plane to San Juan, Puerto Rico. As long-standing readers of this blog will know we came here not long after moving to the US so we had worked quite hard in advance to come up with some plans to entertain us during the last part of our holiday that we hadn't already done on our previous trip (successfully, as you will soon see). But it was very cheery to land in San Juan and be back on the cobbled streets and - on this occasion - staying in a small apartment in the heart of the old town. Having dumped our stuff and acquired a few supplies to ensure breakfast for the next two days, we went down to a bar we remembered from last time, ahead of the main event of the evening - dinner in Marmalade. Last time we went it was one of the best meals I've had, and this occasion proved similarly delightful with a four course vegetarian tasting menu (with wine pairing for me). We had beets, and beautifully fragrant gnocchi and fancy mac'n'cheese and felt very cheery to be there. 

We didn't stay up too late that night, though, since the next morning was a very early start. Up before 6 we emerged from our apartment at 6.30 to find a hipster bearded man (our guide for the day) waiting in his pick-up truck. He cheerily greeted us , inspected our shoes to ensure that they would be hard core enough for the day, and then we set off on a 90 minute drive towards the middle of the country and our destination - the Arecibo Observatory. This is the world's largest single-aperture radio telescope and our plan was to go on a giant hike around it. Our guide was very cheery - it turned out that he runs the tour company as a part-time thing and spends the rest of his time working for the US Department of Agriculture as an environmental planner. This meant he had huge enthusiasm for showing us bits of nature (which we were enthusiastic about because of his enthusiasm if you know what I mean). He handed us a couple of life jackets and hard hats (for a hike?) and then we set off. We began with a steep uphill hike giving us a perfect view of the telescope. It was huge - much bigger than I imagined - and it was fun to imagine all the researchers working there, in what seemed like the middle of nowhere. After a bit more hiking in the downwards direction, we found ourselves at a river which circles most of the telescope. And then our guide walked right into it. Thus commenced an energetic, hair-raising but jolly time rock climbing, wading and floating down the river, including through three giant, black, bat-filled caves through which the river ran. We saw nobody else all day, as we traversed miles of glorious forest, stalactite-encrusted walls, and crystal clear gushing water. It felt a little as though we were in a Disney film since it was so lovely and so deserted with beautiful water, little waterfalls and such like - almost cartoonish in its perfection. We slid and clambered and - on one occasion - used the rocks as a big slide into the water (which was simultaneously delightful and terrifying). We declined the high leaps into the water below... After we'd gone several miles, and had a small picnic outside the last bat cave,

 our guide left the water and point to a small piece of red rope, and told us that we just needed to hop up that to get back on to the path. At first I thought he was joking. Then I thought it was impossible. But yoga seems to have given me slightly more arm strength than I knew, and so I hopped. As did Layla, leaving me thinking that her recent gym excursions have not been in vain. We then continued hiking - though being wet from top to tail made this a bit less fun than it was at first. And then, we were back in sight line of the telescope and could even hear signs of other human life. Eventually we got back to the pick-up truck, changed and consumed a vast number of grapes and pita chips with great enthusiasm. And then we headed home to San Juan...

Having showered and de-rivered more generally, we went out for a (slow) wander along the river, stopping for a beer with a sea view and contemplated the cruise ships with interest and trepidation (ahead of our own trip to the UK on the Queen Mary in August). And then, dinner. We found a lovely place, Verde Mesa, with lots of vegetarian food which was really interestingly done. San Juan has such good food. And if brussels sprouts aren't terribly Puerto Rican they are certainly both delicious and very American. So I didn't feel that ashamed. We then went for a wander through the streets - which feel very old Europe if you know what I mean - and stumbled across a movie being shot which we watched for a bit before heading home to read - and then sleep. 

Next morning we had a long lie - by which I mean we got up at 8.15 - and then got our stuff ready for an insane weekend expedition into the mountains. Then we went out for a wander by the old fortress by the water, and  then had a coffee and a contemplation of where we should buy a property in London (a seemingly never ending debate). And then lunch in a cute nearby cafe and then coffee (and finally wifi to post our last blog) ahead of meeting a man called Juan Carlos in a nearby square. And who is Juan Carlos and why are we meeting him, you ask?! Good questions which I shall leave Layla to answer in our next blog. But he is our companion for the weekend and we have high levels of confidence in him despite knowing very little about him because he used to work in Arlington Public Library. Logical indeed. 

In which Layla and Roz sample the Caribbean delights of Anguilla

By Layla

When we told our friends in the deepest of snowy Washington winter that we'd booked a holiday to the Caribbean, their faces were a mixture of 'jealous!', 'wow, you finally booked a normal holiday,' and 'gosh, what's wrong?' Our motivation was to visit our friend living in Anguilla. And so, we ditched our usual adventure for a stretch of beautiful beaches. We got to Anguilla via Sint Marten (Dutch territory), then a 5 minute drive to Saint Martin (French territory) before taking a 25 minute ferry over to Anguilla (British overseas territory). I've never visited so many countries in the space of an hour! 

But soon enough our friend had met us, we'd dumped our bags and we settled in a choice spot, sipping prosecco, on a picture-perfect, almost private little beach looking out onto the Caribbean. Nice. We couldn't resist a dip in the sea to round off the perfect start to a Caribbean holiday. That night we caught up with our friend over wine and food before admiring how rapidly our skin burned... And off to bed. 

The next day our destination was of course the beach, this time Crocus Bay. We acquired loungers, ate lunch at an attractive restaurant with live music, and hired paddleboards. We paddled into the (little) waves all the way past Pelicans and fancy yachts to a picturesque spot called Little Bay. On our return we got lots of street cred for our great paddleboarding finesse. Our friend joined us for a cocktail before returning home to de-sand and then out to Sandy Ground, a little restaurant strip on another picturesque beach where we watched the sun set over the water and negotiated a vegetarian dinner. 

Us being us, by the next day we were restless with all this crazy relaxing. We took a taxi to Island Harbour where we acquired ice creams and joined a school field trip to a miniature golf course, which was very much fun (especially when I won). Then we found the one French bakery on the island and acquired a picnic. Our mission: Windward Point, the easternmost point of Anguilla. We'd heard it was a nice hike but when we asked the minigolf people's advice on how to get to the start of the trail, they were appalled: 'if you asked for our advice, we'd say: don't go!' Luckily one of them was more adventurous and sweetly drove us to a place called Junk Hole. From there we walked down a long sandy track, cooled down with a beer at a single beachside restaurant, and then set off on our adventure. It was cool - but alas not temperature-wise. The sea looked all wild and moody. The lizards scrambled around. The strangest cacti popped up their heads. But there was nothing higher than us in any direction. The sun blazed down with zero shade. We tried. We gasped. We decided to cut out walking loop shorter than originally planned. Still, it was a while in that blazing sun before we eventually hit a road, and then a beachside cafe where we gratefully sunk into shady seats with a beer. 

Afterwards we got a cafe customer to drive us to Shoal Bay East where, after some false starts, we settled on loungers with books and drinks (spotting a pattern?) then hopped into the sea with a rented boogie board for some fun and frolics before returning home by taxi and going out with our friend that evening to the fancy schmancy hotels in the West of the Island for cocktails before an excellent meal at SandBar, and home for Bananagrams. Because we are cool. 

On our final day we walked an hour to Crocus Bay and spent the day on loungers with our books, and persuading the paddleboard people to let us rent them despite the wind... Fortunately we were able to prove our paddleboarding finesse once more after everyone else fell in the water and we suavely glided past sea turtles and flying fish. Very fun. For our last meal, we returned to SandBar. And then first thing today, we hopped on that ferry from Anguilla back to Saint Martin. 

In which Layla and Roz celebrate a mid-January New Year's Eve in New York

By Layla

Our Christmas and New Year were foiled by Roz's mum's death, so after a tough and uncelebratory 2014, we decided to re-set with cheery optimism for the start of a new year. And so, instead of accepting a grim new year on the 31st December, we decided to postpone and celebrate in style mid-January. And thus, we stepped on the train to New York at an ungodly hour on Saturday morning with a little thrill in our hearts for the long weekend ahead. We arrived in time to drop off our bags at The Lex and head for a lovely Chelsea neighborhood brunch in the Sullivan Street bakery. 

After brunch, we climbed up to the delightful High Line Park, which always makes us feel happy as it opened not long before our NY honeymoon, when we first explored it. With great views out to the Statue of Liberty, and surrounded by trees, high-up street art, and bright blue sky, we started to feel very holiday-ish. Our next stop was to a LGBT art tour of the Chelsea galleries. Out of Chelsea's 300 or so galleries, these art tours (this is our third), pick out some of the most interesting exhibitions on that week, and tell us a bit about what we're seeing. Since this one happened to be LGBT-themed, we saw some work by gay and lesbian artists, plus others, and met two of the artists. Wandering around these galleries was a lovely, cool way to spend the afternoon. 

Then, after it finished, we decided to do what I hadn't done since I was 14, and Roz had never done: we went up the Empire State Building! Tourist-tastic! We thought we'd bought express tickets, allowing up to jump the queue. Alas we'd bough Skyride add-ons instead, so first we were treated to a simulator ride through New York which was quite good and made us both feel queasy. We'd rather have had the express tickets, we mused bitterly, as we watched others going straight to the front of the giant line... But eventually we got to the front, zoomed up to the 80th floor, ran up 6 final flights of stairs, at there we were at the top (ish) of the Empire State Building! We muttered how all these romcom movies where people meet at the top are unrealistic, given the cost and waiting time involved... But when we looked out over the city at sunset, we had to admit it was romantic and cooler than we'd imagined. After gazing at New York in a 360 degree splendour of twinkling lights, we got into more queues and eventually got out onto the street, far later than we'd hoped.

After a mad dash back to the hotel to change for the evening, and allowed a full 90 seconds for the transformation from day-clothes-brrr-it's-freezing to new-year's-eve-glamour. Then a leap into a cab and out at the Grey Dog, a casual eatery we'd fallen in love with on our honeymoon. Salad and wine - a perfect quick meal, before a dash round the corner to New York Live Arts Theatre to see... Taylor Mac! This performance artist is a favourite of ours and though we had misgivings about his show (a three-hour review of music from the 1900s-1920s without an intermission), it was brilliant, telling the story of America from the perspective of the outsider through the music. We adored it, even when it ended up overrunning and we had to grab another cab to our final destination of the night: the delightful cocktail bar, Dear Irving. We got there just in time for our reservation and were seated in a cool part of the bar, where some really quite excellent cocktails were produced in time for the clock to strike midnight, ringing in our belated but happy new year celebration.

The next day was forecast 100% likelihood of rain, varying between heavy rain and freezing rain, and the reality didn't disappoint. We cancelled our street art walking tour and instead grabbed our umbrellas and walked down to Greenwich Village for breakfast in another branch of Grey Dog, followed by seeing a beautiful animated Japanese film at the IFC (along with a full-ish house of kids, people like us, and Japanese people of all ages - Roz and a small girl were the two weeping loudest at the end, though), then a tasty lunch in our beloved Cornelia Street Cafe. Then it was onto the metro and over to Brooklyn where we sloshed through puddles til we found the NYC Transit Museum. What a cool museum! It's inside an old subway station, giving it an apt ambience, and features all sorts of old subway cars, complete with old advertisements in the cars. We went through them all, chuckling at the women named "Miss Subway" over the years. There were various other interesting exhibits, like the history of how the subway was built, and all sorts of things to play with, like how to make electricity to power the trains. When we were ready to leave we couldn't believe how much time had passed! We had coffee in a cool little hipster cafe, then hopped back onto the subway to return to Manhattan - and to Hell's Kitchen for a pre-theatre dinner. Yelp helped us find an incongruously cute (for the area) little Italian restaurant, Riposo 46. We enjoyed some very nice pizza, salad and wine before strolling round the corner to the Shubert Theatre. We'd lost track of the number of people who had told us how fantastic the musical Matilda was. This was our big moment! Sure enough, it was indeed very good, though by no means winning a place as one of my top musicals. We had a lovely time though, and then we and our umbrellas walked back to our hotel, stopping at a cool bar en route for wine (Roz) and a big cake (me). 

On our final day, we started off by taking our suitcase to the luggage place at Penn Station. Suitably unencumbered, we grabbed breakfast, then set off to Bryant Park ice rink for our traditional skate/homage to the realisation of a dream. Five years ago, on the Bryant Park ice rink, we first thought up the idea of moving to America. So despite the million tumbling children cramming the rink, here we were. It was lovely. 

Afterwards, we hopped on the subway and headed to Queens, destination: Museum of the Moving Image. At first the neighbourhood seemed unlikely, but then remnants of the old Astoria movie studios became apparent... And then the museum appeared. Humble from the outside, inside this turned out to be one of the most delightful museums we've visited in New York. Cool architecture, bright, well-designed, interesting exhibits about filmmaking, lots of old films to watch, and some interactive fun including a free PacMan machine I practically had to drag Roz away from, and a sound studio mock-up where you could record your voice saying lines in famous movies. We chose Wizard of Oz. I don't know whether Dorothy sounded funnier in my Scottish accent, or Roz's English one: "Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore!"

We had lunch in the museum cafe, then headed into town to a museum that was three thousand times busier, the Museum of Modern Art. Our plan was to see the much-lauded exhibition of Matisse paper cut-outs. But first we had to fight through a mass of others with the same intention. We saw a very nice little Lautrec exhibition (and enjoyed his penchant for lesbians), an interesting between-the-wars photo exhibition, and of course the Matisse exhibition, which was hard to appreciate due to the crowds, but was interesting and impressive, and definitely worth a look. 

After all that crowdsurfing we were exhausted, so a walk through Central Park proved welcome, attractive relief. Then we went to a cool little Japanese coffeeshop for a bit of a read and some pre-train banana bread... Then walked down to Penn Station. What a good, fun, busy, and altogether delightful New Year weekend. Hooray for 2015. 

In which Layla and Roz do Mexico City

By Layla 

We touched down in Mexico City with pre-emptive "oh no, our holiday's nearly over" sorrow, but then realized it was only Friday, pulled ourselves together, went to a local deli for a cheer-boosting cake, then to a vegetarian taco place for lunch, and then took a cab through the horrible traffic and into the Centro Historico. 

We hopped out at this really cool pedestrian street called Calle Regina, full of hipster bars and cafés, and buildings with grass lawns and bicycles on their walls. Great fun. Then up to the main square, the zocalo, where we spotted buildings that feature in Barbara Kingsolver's The Lacuna. Next up, a visit to the obscure Museo del Estanquillo which featured political cartoons entirely indecipherable to us... But also a rooftop cafe with a really amazing view of brilliant adjacent rooftop architecture. We sat in the sun surrounded by cool buildings and read our books and felt very cheery indeed. 

Afterwards we kept walking, past a very cool building, the Palacio de Bellas Artes, across the pretty Centro Alameda Park, and then, ignoring Roz's previous quiet comment about a blister, for miles up Reforma Avenue, with the plan of walking all the way home to avoid the hideous traffic (we didn't live near a metro). Luckily we were diverted, first by a hipster type pizza and beer place, and then by a really brilliant bar called Gin Gin, where we imbibed some of the best cocktails we've had all year in the very cool surroundings of exposed brick, quirky lighting, and random decor. It was fab. And thus it took us rather longer to get home that we'd expected... But by the time we collapsed into bed, our Jawbone pedometers were very pleased with us indeed. 

They were even more pleased on Saturday. We walked through this huge, cool park called Chapultepec Park and then a ridiculously long way (at one point inadvertently arguing with a policeman to let us take a shortcut through what turned out to be the President's house...)  and eventually got to our destination: the bike tour office! Soon we were off, with a bizarre guide who had no road sense at all, down into the park, along Reforma, into the zocalo, and through the Zona Rosa, Roma and Condesa neighborhoods. My favorite part was going into a tiny hidden "auditory garden" which was like a little grotto, with music, lounging chairs, and a random selection of books for people to pick up and relax with. Delightful.

We loved the tour route, but given our guide's precarious cycling skills, we were relieved to get him back in one piece. Then we grabbed a cab to a very cool vegetarian cafe for lunch, the type with exposed brick, tables made out of reclaimed wooden doors, and all that hipster fun. Lunch was delicious. And we'd chosen it to be near the park we cycled past... Because I had spotted a rowing lake. I LOVE a rowing lake. Sadly, given the choice between a rowing boat and a pedal boat, I chose the latter as Roz had never been on one. The lake was brilliant, with lovely views, a fountain, and cafés on the waterfront - but I'd forgotten our legs had just done a 3 hour cycle! They protested bitterly, so eventually we conceded that they might deserve a rest, and instead we walked to the Modern Art museum. Some really cool things, including the famous Two Fridas painting. And a cool building too. We had a lovely hour wandering in the museum and sculpture garden before grabbing a cab back to our hotel. That evening how could we resist... We went back to Gin Gin. Mmmm. And then to a cool bookshop cafe. Before going home and admiring the 35,000 steps our Jawbones reported we'd taken that day. 

There is nothing more melancholy than the last day of a holiday. Especially when it has a weird ending: I had to leave for the airport at 11:30 while Roz stayed in Mexico for work for an extra few days. We determinedly got up early and were eating apple cake for breakfast in our local deli by 8:15. Then onwards to the park, where a stroll past a local Nike marathon, and through the park itself, returned us to the boating lake. This time we opted for a proper rowing boat, and had a really delightful hour rowing around the lake in the perfect sunshine. While we did so, the marathon ended and instead the road was closed to cars, and filled with bicycles. This was lovely, even if it did make it tricky to find a cab. But find one we did, and it was back to the hotel for brunch, before I bade a sad farewell to Roz and we got into separate taxis, mine to the airport and hers to another hotel, to start the work portion of her trip. But not before she fit in a final trip, taking a metro to Museo Soumayo, which she reported as quirky, cool art, with some enthusiasm for a Sophia Loren exhibition... 

And now I'm home in Washington while Roz prepares for her conference. We loved Mexico City. It's changed so much in the decade or so since I first visited. So many cool bars and restaurants. It feels much safer. And of course the brilliant park, great neighborhoods, fab museums... I hope I get to visit again soon! In the meantime, back to work. 

Books we read during our week-long holiday:

Roz: The Dog by Joseph O'Neill, Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes, Us by David Nicholls, The Bone Clocks by David Mitchell, and good progress into Tom Jones by Henry Fielding and The Lacuna by Barbara Kingsolver. 

Layla: The Rosie Effect by Graeme Simsion, Echo Boy by Matt Haig, The Sparrow by Mary Doria Russell, part of When You Are a Engulfed in Flames by David Sedaris and most of The Bone Clocks by David Mitchell. 

In which Roz and Layla escape the chill, view ruins, and cycle through the countryside

We left you whilst we were in a cold cabin on a mountain. I coaxed the dying fire into life in an unexpectedly Boy Scout type fashion, and then challenged Layla to a game of Scrabble. I unfortunately made a child's error of helping her when she got stuck with one set of letters. My helping gave her more than 50 points...and I ended up losing the game. Not that I remain bitter at all. 

Next morning, we awoke distinctly chilly and were enthusiastic about getting out into the sunshine. A quick tasty breakfast and the we were off on a hike along a mountain woodland path. The path was delightful, if disappointingly undulating.  (Why do people always make undulating sound like a good thing, when what it really means is "there are going to be numerous bits where you are going uphill but all your efforts will be in vain as you'll then be going downhill"?). 8km later and we found ourselves in another village where we had been told we were going to get some kind of local massage. The local massage turned out to be a local sauna, and Layla doesn't really enjoy this sort of thing. So we negotiated, instead, for another local experience. We were unclear on what this would entail, but heard the word "massage" and "not hot" so what was to be lost. We were taken to a house in the middle of nowhere where we were greeted by a very bouncy and licky small dog and a cheery old lady who spoke no English. She sat us down in her living room (with the dog) and went off to get ready. Then she brought in a large pot of flowers which she put in the middle of the room. And then she left to get two eggs and a glass of water. She returned and indicated that she was ready. I unfairly pushed Layla into a standing position and indicated she would go first. I then had the delight of watching Layla being beaten with a large bunch of flowers and then being "massaged" with an egg which the old lady rubbed with surprising vigor all over her body. I was clear that the lady would have been offended if I'd laughed...and in any event Layla soon had her revenge as she sat there smiling smugly whilst I was beaten and then egg massaged. At the end she broke the eggs into the glass of water, pointing to the toxins and evil eye she'd removed. 

A surprisingly delicious roadside lunch proved something of an anticlimax but was nonetheless enjoyable. We then managed to hop on a crowded bus which took us cheaply and efficiently back to Oaxaca. Incongruously, I watched the Mexican scenery whizz by whilst listening to Fielding's Tom Jones (set in 18th century England) whilst Layla slept, but all in all a relatively pleasant time was had. Back in Oaxaca, our first stop was a shower, to get rid of the flower remnants (and indeed because neither of us had fancied a cold shower that morning). From there we went back to our favourite cafe/bookstore (and had an interesting interlude phoning man who is doing a job that I might be taking and then speculating about what that turn in our life would be like). From there we went to a very well reviewed vegetarian restaurant which would have been lovely he it not been entirely deserted and somewhat spartan. Nonetheless, we pressed on and had a brief meal before retiring to a nice nearby bar for a beer. 

Next morning, after breakfast we hopped in a taxi to go to some ruins at a place called Monte Alban - the remains of the first known city state, perched at the top of a hill. I expected the site to be entirely overrun, and so it was a delightful surprise to find only a scattering of tourists. A delightful two hours passed with us rambling over ruins, up ancient steps and examining the odd carving. We stopped midway for a read in the shade and this too was entirely delightful. 

Back in Oaxaca, we had lunch in the main square and read our books. We contemplated afterwards that we didn't feel entirely brilliant (too much food? After effects of beating with flowers? Stress of potential new job?). We therefore went on a gentle stroll through the streets (mainly in hopes of finding a swimming costume for me - an aspiration that was disappointed) before returning to our hotel to sit on the nice rooftop area and read. As evening approached, neither of us fancied food, so we decided to head into the suburbs of Oaxaca to go to the cinema to the see the new Hunger Games. We arrived early (uncertain whether it would end up entirely sold out or not) and so having bought tickets went to a nearby cafe for a mint tea. The film was good, albeit involving too much peril for my taste. It's always fun to see films in a foreign country and this was no exception - the audience was struck by laughter at inexplicable moments, and the Spanish subtitles didn't look that off to us...

Next morning, we awoke with an enthusiasm for breakfast and went to our favourite cafe again. Then, it was time for a bike tour. It turned out to be our most delightful day so far. A short drive took us into the mountains, where we got off in a picture perfect village which was home to one of the biggest trees in the world (surrounded by crazy topiary bushes). Then we hopped out our bikes and headed off, cycling on dirt tracks through tiny villages and past fields, sharing the path only with passing cows and an occasional donkey-drawn cart. The  temperature was glorious with a perfect blue sky and hills silhouetted all across the horizon. It was entirely delightful and our biking guide (who later turned out to have competed in the Olympics) was entirely kind about the slightly slower pace than one of us wished to go at. (I'm definitely not pointing a finger at Layla...) We then had a a stop for a weaving demonstration. Over the years, we have seen quite a few of these but this was probably one of the best, including a demo of how to create different colour dyes ("it's like magic" one of us said). Then more cycling interspersed with stops for delicious fruit. Then, back into the van for a drive high up into the mountains. Here we had lunch (our best meal in Mexico so far, with beautiful quesadillas made in front of us). And then on to Hierve el Agua, a place Layla visited ten or more years ago. Here we were left to our own devices and we went hiking to beautiful pool which were on the top of remarkable petrified waterfalls. Though the hike was more undulating than either of us would have liked, it was also beautiful. Layla ended up swimming in one of the pools. I had contemplated doing so (despite my lack of swimming costume - I'd cobbled together something that would keep me decent) but the water really was very chilly...and I mentally justified this decision by pointing out someone needed to keep an eye on our bag. We hiked back to the van afterwards (Layla shivering). Our drive home was pleasing enough, with an interlude involving giving a lift to an ancient Mexican who wanted to go to a hospital clinic and a stop to see Mezcal being made. (Mezcal,is the local spirit - a cousin of tequila I think.) Back in Oaxaca, we went back for a shower (and for Layla to defrost) before going out for a light dinner in a very cheery restaurant which was full of people. And then bed: an early start to return to Mexico City tomorrow. 

In which Layla and Roz eat guacamole, hike, and realize the Mexican mountains are chilly

By Layla 

We touched down in Mexico City not quite sure what to expect. I'd been there ten years ago, and Roz never had - but it doesn't get the best of press. So we were delighted to find the city looked charming as we whizzed through it (or rather crawled - the traffic is unpleasant) en route to our hotel in the pretty Condesa District. We dropped our stuff and took another taxi, this one to Frida Kahlo's blue house, where she lived and worked. The queue was crazy but eventually we got in for a cup of tea, a stroll round the pretty gardens, and then a walk through the house itself, complete with furniture, wheelchair, and her actual paints. It was all quite cool. Then we walked a few blocks away to Trotsky's house, which we admired from the outside. A stroll down to the Coyocan area's main square was atmospheric and a bit frantic, but it did not produce guacamole, so we took a taxi back to Condesa and indulged in a pre-prandial guac and chips and some pretentious locally brewed craft beer, before later heading to a fancy and pleasant restaurant for mohitos, cheese and salad. 

Up very bright and early, we headed back to the airport, bound for Oaxaca (we'd planned to go straight after arrival but flights only go in the mornings) and we arrived there in time for lunch - a far cry from the last time I got there on a million-hour long distance bus. Oaxaca is sunny and charming in an Antigua, Guatemala sort of way. Pretty cathedrals and art galleries abound. After checking in and sorting out a bike trip for later in the week, we fought our way through the stressfully busy zocalo market (zocalo is a town square here), onto an attractive pedestrian street, and had lunch in a cute little courtyard attached to a bookshop. 

Onwards after lunch to the contemporary art museum which was okay but not thrilling, then I took Roz on this big walk up a thousand very steep steps for no particular reason... The view from the top was pretty... And then, having climbed down again, we wandered around a very attractive cobbled area with pastel colored buildings, before returning to the zocalo in search of a beer. We failed and Roz fell over something and whacked her knee. We limped back to our hotel, dripping blood, and spent the rest of the afternoon having drinks and reading our books on the hotel patio amid a hundred tweeting birds in a vast array of cages. 

That night I rather failed to find a good, open restaurant in what's known as a foodie town. We went to La Catedral and had Oaxacan fare. The cheese was delicious. The corn tamale was to my taste - all the more for me. But then we had 'mole amarillo', a famous type of sauce usually served over beef, apparently. We said we were vegetarian. This resulted in us being given a plate of sauce with nothing in it, save a single tiny potato... And we were charged the same price as for the beef version! Huffily we returned to the zocalo where everyone seemed to be out, watching boys do crazy tricks on BMX bikes and that sort of thing. And then headed home to sleep, to the tones of cheering crowds below. 

Up early again (5:30 every day, inexplicably), we got breakfast in the same place as lunch the previous day, our new local. Then we headed to a tour office for instructions, trekked to an obscure bus station, and caught a shared car to Llano Grande, holding more people than cars are designed to hold... There are a collection of little villages in the Sierra Norte, the mountains near Oaxaca, who have banded together to offer ecotourism experiences. We had decided to do a trek between them. We were assigned a cabin in the woods, and then set off with our guide on a 3 hour hike. It turned out to be quite a tricky hike, uphill with the altitude making me wheeze (that's my story and I'm sticking to it!) but it was fun going through the pine forest, and there were some cool views. 

Afterwards we went to a little restaurant for quite a nice lunch involving eggs and avocado. And then, having acquired some beer, ventured to our cabin. It is truly in a crazy, secluded, off the beaten path location but we finally made it and lounged in hammock chairs overlooking the woods... Til it started to get cold. To be aware: the temperature in Oaxaca is not similar to the temperature in the mountains. We retired inside to sit on our bed. Then under the covers. Then to go out for dinner, donned every single clothing item we'd brought with us, including pajamas. Brrrrrr. Luckily one of the guides came to make a fire for us and we followed him in the pitch blackness through the woods to dinner in the same restaurant. Which was rather disappointing as well as deserted and freezing. But we had a cheery dinner of cheese quesadillas and hot chocolate anyway! Before holding hands and gripping the torch function of my iPhone and setting off in the pitch black wood to our cabin. We reached it just as the fire was dying. But then as I've been writing this blog, Roz has magically made it come to life again and it is roaring merrily now. Hooray! I'm still planning to wear every item of clothing to bed but I'm not fearing hypothermia. Tomorrow: hiking to the next village. 

In which Roz and Layla drink cocktails, and go to Fringe Festival in Victoria, and Bumbershoot Festival in Seattle

By Roz

It was undeniably cool to arrive in Victoria by helicopter. Less cool was dragging our suitcases from the shuttle bus down various deserted roads into the suburbs of Victoria and wondering what we'd been thinking when we'd booked this AirBnB flat "near Cook St Village"'.. A thought that became all the more pressing when I realized that our flat was up three narrow flights of stairs. There is a lesson in here somewhere. Probably to pack less. But the flat turned out to be lovely inside and at various points over the next few days staying in it, we mused vigorously on how to emulate its coziness and general delightfulness. Without success I fear. 

Having dumped our stuff we headed out to acquire groceries and for a mini explore of the area. It turned out that we had parked ourselves in a suburb which could be described as a village if you interpret that as meaning "has a shop or two within a ten minute walk". Alas. We picked up groceries and more medications for me (I am fast becoming a very bad patient, and require Layla to think of medications to fix me, given her doctoring background: this is proving an expensive hobby on this holiday at least). This accomplished, we headed out to dinner at the delightful Little Jumbo, which turned out to be one of the top 30 restaurants in Canada. Slightly hard to find, with cool lighting and terrific cocktails, it proved to be a delightful introduction to Vancouver Island. 

Next morning the weather looked gloomy, but our depression at this was soon dissipated by the discovery that our visit to Victoria co-incided with the Victoria Fringe Festival. Layla handed me multiple apple devices and a credit card and instructed me to "book things". Somewhat restrainedly, I only booked three shows but musing on the options in our delightful flat almost distracted me from moaning about my cold and bites, and thus was a sensible ploy by Layla. We headed out for an embarrassingly early lunch which involved walking to the other bit of the "village". Lunch was delicious - and in a surprisingly popular venue - and we meandered from there downtown taking a very circuitous route along the water. This all proved picturesque and lovely but in true English fashion I then began to demand afternoon tea. We popped into the Empress hotel - which is famed as the place to go for afternoon tea - and then fled when we heard it was going to cost us $60 each. We ended up on the hotel's verandah overlooking the sea. Tea was provided (with the tea bag already in the teapot - Canadians having learned this key skill from us in a way Americans have resisted). Also cake. And I very much enjoyed the opportunity to focus on my book (the new Sarah Waters) whilst Layla finally finished Steinbeck's East of Eden. All in all very enjoyable. 

From there we headed back to see our first fringe festival show (in an area quite close to our flat, which we saw was described as in the "boonies" by one reviewer). It was a one woman show about roller derby and though not earth shattering, was very jolly. We went from there to an Indian restaurant for dinner and from there to our second fringe show. This proved to have been a poor pick. It was well done, if you like somewhat facile physical farcical comedy, but wasn't to my taste. With my cold feeling ever more oppressive I nudged Layla and persuaded her to make a speedy exit at an opportune moment. We headed back to our flat and watched a jolly episode or two of Community on Netflix before retiring to bed. 

Next morning I felt little better and Layla had begun sneezing and rain had made its appearance. So we took this as fate telling us to settle down in our lovely flat for the morning to read our books. We eventually headed out for a huge egg-focussed lunch downtown which also involved a little Fringe-based bonding with a fellow diner. From there we went to hire bikes and headed out on the Galloping Goose trail into the countryside. This was often delightful - mainly flat and sometimes in countryside and sometimes by the water. But. Then - after around 15km - we found ourselves on a trail surrounded on both sides by a freeway. We looked at the map and realized this would continue for a while and so decided to beat a hasty retreat. Or as hasty a retreat as one can when needing to traverse 15 or so km. 

Having dropped off our bikes, we headed to Chapters, a nice looking bookshop that I had noticed. We browsed, felt guilty at not buying books (but the DC library is so good!) and then settled down in the bookshop cafe for a tea and a read. Or, in Layla's case, a cake-pop and a snooze. After this delightful interlude we headed back to Little Jumbo for an early dinner before our final fringe show. The restaurant was as lovely as ever - and we were greeted as regulars - and we therefore felt not too bad to be revisiting a place we'd been to before. And I felt the cocktails were definitely medicinal. 

Our final fringe show (The Middle of Everywhere) proved to be really excellent: set at a bus stop (what could be better?!), it was almost exclusively mime, and all the more impressive given that the performers wore masks and managed to convey far more story than I could have imagined possible. An excellent conclusion to our interlude in Victoria (despite Layla's cold declaring victory in her battle to fight it off). 

Next morning, we were up fairly early - to pack and so that Layla could rehearse one of the upcoming performers in Perfect Liars Club - and we were then on the ferry to Seattle. This proved entirely delightful - what's not to like about a ferry from one country to another. And the mimosas were a pleasant addition...

And now by Layla

We were delighted to find a taxi waiting for us and before long we were in our downtown Seattle AirBnB apartment, which was quite cool. And then we were dashing out towards the cinema near the Space Needle - you see we'd identified a cool short films event from the Seattle International Film Festival. What their website failed to mention was that said cinema was within the walls of a big annual arts festival in Seattle called Bumbershoot. Much angst ensued, as we scrabbled for a plan B... It was already 4pm on the last full day of our holiday: we NEEDED a good plan. We looked up the festival and found it was quite full of good stuff, including The Moth. So we took a deep breath, bought the tickets, and headed to the films, only to find they were full. This was in fact the theme of Bumbershoot: stand in line for hours if you actually want to see anything. We failed on the films. We failed on two comedy shows. We managed to get in to see Tim Robbins, a local author clearly much beloved in Seattle (he wrote Even Cowgirls Get the Blues) who was quite cheery, reading the first page of each of his eleven published books. And then, after debating the merits of hiding in the toilet to sneak into the next show, Roz left early, zoomed into line, and secured our spots at what turned out to be the most expensive Moth show I've ever attended. But nevertheless, it was really good, with three thought provoking stories. We were very happy we'd managed to get in. 

After that, we fought our way out of Bumbershoot, and onwards to a really cool line of bars and restaurants which we had failed to encounter during our previous week in Seattle. Our destination: Bathtub gin, a cool little speakeasy bar down an alley. We had some delicious cocktails, then, irritated by the laddish drunk men trying to talk to us, decamped to RobRoy, another cocktail bar, then to a third establishment to add potatoes and ice cream to our repertoire. During the evening my cold was getting worse and worse, so I can't say I was too sorrowful when our final holiday night ended and we were obliged to collapse into bed. 

This morning we had difficulty finding anywhere for brunch thanks to it being Labor Day, but finally sated, we grabbed our suitcases and took an Uber to... Lake Union! Our flight might have been at 2pm, but the sun had popped out from behind the clouds and paddleboards awaited! Sure enough, we stepped onto the boards and started paddling up towards the scenic gasworks park. Which was when we started to realize the lake wasn't quite as relaxing as other lakes, thanks to the large number of boats going by, either trying to run us over or throwing us into waves in their wake. I've never been on such a precarious paddle! As we shrieked and dropped to our knees to avoid being unceremoniously dumped in the probably-toxic water of Lake Union, we looked back across the Seattle skyline. "Ah, isn't this idyllic," said Roz. Just before another huge wake threatened to topple us! 

But sadly all good things must come to an end. And so we paddled precariously back to the dock, called another Uber, and headed for the airport, homeward bound. Another amazing holiday!

BOOKS READ WHILST ON HOLIDAY

Roz: East of Eden (John Steinbeck), Anne of Green Gables (LM Montgomery), The Bees (Laline Paul), We Were Liars (E Lockhart), Euphoria (Lily King), Restoration (Rose Tremain), Crazy Rich Asians (Kevin Kwan), Music for Torching (A.M. Holmes), The Paying Guests (Sarah Waters). And substantial progress made with A Place of Greater Safety (Hilary Mantel) and Empress Dowager Cixi (Jung Chang). 

Layla: The Bees (Laline Paull), Euphoria (Lily King), The Provincial Lady (EM Delafield), Colourless Tsukuru Tazaki (Haruki Murakami), We Were Liars (E Lockhart), The Fault in our Stars (John Green), East of Eden (John Steinbeck), We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves (Karen Joy Fowler) and substantial progress into The Paying Guests by Sarah Waters.